Butterfly
by disgustinglittlegirl
Summary: "Come on, Xenophilius. There's no need to be pointing wands, now."
1. Chapter 1

She'd always known that Xenophilius Lovegood was an odd one. Even if she hadn't, his house probably gave as much away; a towering, slightly askew affair of stone standing tall against the now mauve shade the sky had taken on as the winter evening began to bleed in. The building sat comfortably under a thick brambly mesh of leaves and branches that lay heavy with small orange fruits, stone walls adorned with scribbled portraits of strange animals in vivid shades of orange green and blue. A homemade sign that read "Keep off the Dirigible Plums!" nestled cozily at the front.

Timidly, the girl approached the awkwardly constructed steps that led up to the man's front door and stopped. Suppose he didn't believe what she had to say? It had been a good year or so since the two had last spoken, after all. Suppose he didn't even remember her amongst all the horrible goings-on with the Ministry and grief for his daughter's disappearance, and mistook her news for knowledge of a Deatheater? Bare feet shuffle nervously where they stood undecidedly at the front door to the house. (She really ought to have worn shoes. It's only polite.) Her lower gut tugs in apprehension as she glances up at the contorted edges of a window pane where an orange glow shone dimly from the house; there was only really one way to go about it. She knocks at the door.

Unsurprisingly, there is no instantaneous response. A sudden shuffle and clatter of pots from inside the building can be heard, but after that nothing.

'He's hiding.'

A gust of bitter wind blew any thoughts of turning to leave from her head, and the wooden door gives an unwelcome shriek as she tentatively pushes it open.

The girl's nose is immediately greeted with an earthy, tangy, strangely recognizable smell, which she notes a discarded teapot pregnant with sodden stewed teabags as the culprit of. The room - presumably the kitchen, judging by the amount of chinaware that she found herself surrounded by - was silent and barely visible by just the delicate light of the moon, and an ancient floorboard groans unhappily as she steps further in.

At her feet a small furry object catches her attention. Humming suddenly in curiosity, she bends to her knees for further inspection, only to be interrupted with a startling abrupt BANG - she jumps back to her feet, hand instinctively reaching to grab for some sort of defense, only to be met with anothers wand aimed directly at her forehead.

"Stop!"

Silence.

Panting slightly, she allows her sights to be drawn away from where the aggressors' wand very nearly touches her skin and slowly travels down until, as she inevitably expected, they meet with a pair of grey twinkling eyes that look slightly pained under a furrowed brow.

"Who are you?" the man spoke softly yet sharply in his familiar Irish tang. "What do you want?"

The girl smiled, "Come on, Xenophilius. There's no need to be pointing wands, now."

(A/N: I apologise for the lack of action thus far, it will get more exciting I promise. Reviews and constructive criticism are treasured and appreciated and shall probably result in quicker updates. Thank you, darlings!) 


	2. Chapter 2

"Its you." the man whispers, eyes widening slightly and glimmering in the pale moonlight.  
"Oh! It's you!" he repeats a little louder as he stumbles back slightly in realization, the hand his wand is in visibly shaking.

"It is me, yes..." the girl replies, the sound of a smile in her voice. She observes the very nervous Xenophilius Lovegood before her and frowns. Though the man had always been rather tired looking as a result from many late nights up writing Quibbler articles, he now looked considerably drawn and exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and brows furrowed slightly in some sort of defeat. The odd looking beige cardigan he wore hung off of his unusually delicate frame. He swallows. In the silence he had been quickly examining the girl for any immediate signs of anything suspicious, but upon finding none he turns his attention back to her face.

"You must be cold," he states in regards to her bare feet. He chuckles weakly, a sound that she cannot help but smile in response to.  
"Well..." An inquisitive, hazy look suddenly appears on his face as they make eye contact. "I suppose...I suppose it's only polite to get you a...drink - tea? Tea, yes, tea..." before she has a time to answer, he's spun round and is wandering across the room murmuring to himself, uneasy hands swishing his wand to light the room with flickering orange candles, disappearing down a spiral staircase that was in the centre of the room.

Xenophilius glances up at the girl through his white blonde hair, still feeling a little jittery. He was stood by the window with his head bowed, and was pretending to be unusually interested in a small fray on his cardigan sleeve as he observed her sat cupping the warm mug of tea in her hands, apparently admiring the decor of his home.  
"I'm surprised they haven't got you yet." he finally speaks softly. She raises her head to look at him, lowering her mug.  
"I've been careful." she says.  
"Careful?" he replies, "You-know-who has snatchers on every street corner, in every valley, nobody that's been caught has escaped yet-"  
"I have friends" she argues, a little too quickly for his liking;  
"Friends!" he exclaims, raising his voice slightly "What, workers at the Ministry of Magic friends? Azkaban friends? _Deatheater_ friends?"

There's a silence.  
"I...I apologise." Xenophilius eventually says, sounding weak and tired.  
He avoids eye contact with the girl, embarassed at his out-of-character outburst and settles cross-legged on a raggedy armchair, chewing nervously on the skin of his thumb. "You've caught me at a bad time."  
"It's perfectly alright," she replies, sensing the man's uneasiness and choosing to stare down into her mug of tea. "No need to apologi-"  
"They've taken her, Ophelia." he suddenly says, voice shaking.  
She looks up only to be greeted with his large sad grey eyes.  
"They've taken my Luna." 

(A/N: I apologise for the lack of action thus far, it will get more exciting I promise. Reviews and constructive criticism are treasured and appreciated and shall probably result in quicker updates. Thank you, darlings!) 


End file.
